Page 14 of The Scot Who Loved Me
Male pride beat a new drum in his chest. If this was a game, Anne just made a play, possibly the second one since she opened the drapes. His sleep-grogged mind had some catching up to do.
Shoulder braced on the window frame, he hooked a thumb in his makeshift garment. “I’m considering my options.”
“About meeting the league? Or something else?”
A small hitch broke her confident voice. Anne didn’t ruffle easily. Could be him, or the pressure to make sure he met with the seditious league gathering in her house today. For some reason, she wanted him there, ardently so, despite their pained history.
He’d never been one for coy games. It’s why he decided to deal honestly with her.
“It’s the gold,” he said at last.
“What about the gold?”
“I’ve no’ acquired your comfort with theft.”
The road outside forgotten, she looked at him, her eyes brimming with hauteur. “But murderous rebellion is quite acceptable?”
There’s the woman with fire in her veins.He couldn’t stop his smile. “Battle is face-to-face. Straightforward effort. Theft? Work done in the dark.”
“All of it done without violence or bloodshed.”
You have a bruise on your head, lass.But he’d keep quiet about that, for now.
“I’ve earned my keep with honest hands. Life is better that way. A mon can go to bed content he’s done his best.”
“You followed me last night because you wanted the truth. I gave it to you. Do you wish me to take it back?” Anne’s chin tipped higher. Hauteur delivered with smooth, defensive tones.
That was just like her, combative even when currying favor. The woman never gave up.
“I wouldna dream of asking you to hold back.”
“You will at least keep your word,” she pressed. “And meet the league.”
Her hand was almost hidden in her petticoats, but there it was. Her thumb worrying her finger. An arrow of need shot through his heart, gluing his feet to Anne’s floor. He couldn’t leave now if he tried.
“Have I given you reason to doubt me?” Want thickened his voice.
“No, you haven’t,” she said softly but something flickered in her eyes.
He was at once aroused and irritated by his ferocious appetite for this woman and her inborn calm. Couldn’t she look just a little affected? Skin flushed, eyes darkening with desire, the hint of a quickened pulse?
Something? Anything?
Hair swept high off her forehead and curls perfectly pinned, Anne was poised. She’d maneuvered things to suit her needs. Could be she was maneuvering him. He had to be careful, butwith his boots cleaned, the leather oiled, and the square toes pointing at him beside his satchel, Anne had him neatly in place. A well-traveled edition ofDante’s Infernoand his collection of pamphlets were stacked on the mantel. Near the washstand, a familiar stropping leather hung, ready for the day.
His things, here. It was the splash of cold water he needed.
“I see you’ve gathered my personal effects.”
“A sunrise ferry ride to Wapping Wall. Easy enough.”
He considered asking how she’d gained entry to his lodgings, but at five shillings, two pence a month, his meanly furnished room above an exotic animal dealer’s shop was no palace. His randy landlord would let her in for the price of a flashed ankle.
“You took liberties, madame.”
“And you are naked in my home. After I rescued you from prison, thank you very much.”
She was tart tongued and tetchy, but there was more at stake than a satchel of measly belongings. Pride, maybe. Yearning, perhaps. Or something else deep, deep within, something refusing to retract its claws so firmly embedded in him that there wasn’t enough ale to drown it.
